


The next Twenty Years

by queefqueen



Series: The Orc and The Ranger [4]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gen, half orcs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-17
Updated: 2014-03-17
Packaged: 2018-01-16 02:19:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1328278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queefqueen/pseuds/queefqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the continuation of the "Ashtuzual. The Ranger and the Orc" story up to the early Fourth age. Due to me running out of ideas the format of this work is different than of "Ashtuzual. The Orc and the Ranger”. It is a mix of narrative - becoming short stories in places, and a chronicle in others. <br/>Some story arcs are direct continuation of the previous work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The first fifteen or so

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tommyginger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tommyginger/gifts), [AnnaFan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaFan/gifts).



3003 and later – a fixture of the period are Aravir’s military and domestic policies. He continues to recruit in the north of Arnor, among the Haladin - the volunteers typically are younger cousins of those who had already served the son of Arador. The veterans – released after six or seven years - are offered land in Little Dunland, and often settle down there. The plan to seek out candidates for “Dunedainisation” is dropped, there no longer being a need for it – the Great Trek of 2985 had repopulated the Angle.

Now the majority of recruits come from Little Dunland. There it is perceived as a prestigious service, no longer something for the desperate - like it still often was among the Haladin. Not only the veterans received land at mustering out, but had been given arms training and field craft skills beyond those normally available to the Exiles. This made them sought as chief's retainers. After Gwion - in the 2990’s - placed two of his grandsons with Aravir, such service tempted even eldermen's sons.

There were ten to fifteen such men at arms at all times. The lower figure might be brought about by losses, mustering out, or by the recruitment of boys who needed more than a year of training and thus were held back from field service.

Additionally Aravir also took in a chief’s and eldermen’s sons as fosterlings. There always were two or three such lads around, learning military and estate running skills. “Courtly graces” were taught at a level appropriate to Little Dunland.

 

Aravir's company, led personally and usually with his sons, often ranged in two separate units across Eriador. It cooperated with the Rangers in protecting the land and its inhabitants from Orc or Mannish bandit raids. His elder daughter Pengyril also participating in the Company's patrols. His two younger sons in particular were eager to go on Ranger patrols and occasionally this could be arranged, if the patrol's leader was an old comrade of Aravir's. Common in the late noughts', by the middle of the next decade patrols of the two younger sons with Rangers had petered out.

 

Additionally the Dunadan’s Lords men at arms and sons took part in inter-clan fighting in North Dunland, on the side of the co-belligerent (allied would be too large a word) Three Arrows against the Three Fangs. Aravir’s company – or part of it – fought alongside the men of the Broken Bone clan from Little Dunland supporting their relatives from the Three Arrows.

 

Aravir particularly liked to involve his force in that conflict when there was an opportunity of intercepting the Wise Man’s tithe gathering columns. By now their schedule was more or less known and their appearance predictable. Clashes with orcs from the mountains with their own agenda were also part of the confusing, multi-sided conflict.

 

3003

The first major event in the Aravir household after Ashtuzual’s death was the marriage of Thiriston and Angarad the next year. The couple immediately had twins – Haston and Dageth. In time, after several miscarriages and stillbirths, these were followed by Megilagil. This was the last child Angarad could have.

 

3004

After several years of alternating between Sirbrith and the Tarkil estate Indis announced that she wanted to live in Krikayrau.

Her mother looked at her quizzically.

“There’s a boy in this, isn’t it”

The younger girl flushed.

“Which one is it.” Inzilbeth reeled off the names of Aravir’s sons, then of some of the Dunlending youths she heard her daughter talk about.

Indis, with head low and hair over her face, just shook her head at each of the names.

Once her mother finished - and feeling her eyes boring into her – she squeaked:

“Uncle Aravir.”

Inzilbeth sat down. Now everything came together nicely. Her youngest had never, ever, been sweet on any boy. If she ever idolised any men, it was her father and “uncle Aravir”. She never showed any interest in courtship, regardless of looks or station of the man. She dismissed them all, forbidding her parents to accept any proposals – be these of courtship or marriage. Inzilbeth wrote this off as a case of a “late bloomer” but apparently she had been wrong – her daughter had decided upon one man already. Even if that was her “uncle” – happily, no blood ties there. Eru be praised Indis did not feel un-natural urges. And she feared that of all her children it was Indis which inherited the most of her single-mindedness.

“Isn’t ... isn’t ... he a bit long in the tooth?” – she asked the first of the very many questions whirling in her mind.

“No. he is about seventy. That’s just perfect for a woman like me.” She lifted her head and looked at her mother.

“Mother, I’m like you. I’m no Dunadaneth. I may look like one, but I’m not. I’m like you or those women in Breeland or like the Dunlanders.” Here her mother’s lips twitched with inbred contempt she had been trying to overcome for the last ten years.

“My womb will dry up at forty and I’ll die of old age at sixty.”

The ex-Rohirr, now fifty three years of age, did not need reminding of how she looked. Nor of her life expectancy. Almost all her hair was white and she had deep wrinkles lining her face. Tarkil, on the other hand, looked like a man in his thirties. Or well aged forty. Her daughter continued.

“Aravir will probably live like grandpa Aithon – some one hundred twenty or thirty. That’s fifty to sixty years from now. He would outlive me ... “

The older woman could not reject this logic.

“Does he know of your ... affection?”

“No.” came a whispered answer.

“What will you do?” – she asked with some worry

“Just watch. Make him happy. Pray to Yavanna that someday he will think of me as a woman.”

“Child, you’ll be killing yourself. You’ll be unhappy ... ” - Inzilbeth drew her youngest daughter into an embrace.

“I’m unhappy away from him.” – sniff - “Better to be unhappy where I can at least be near him.” – sniff – “I tried keeping away – I felt bad about thinking about Uncle Aravir that way, I felt bad about being in Aunt Lothi’s place. That’s why I stopped going to Krikayrau after 3000, remember. You didn’t know the reason, but now I can tell.”

A big sniff.

“And after Aunt Lothi was murdered I felt rotten - some part of me was happy that he .... he was free. I felt so awful!”

Wipes nose into sleeve.

“I tried to keep away, to punish myself for such thoughts. To stop thinking about him. But I still do.”

Inzilbeth comforted her daughter, thinking how to pass this by her husband. Krikayrau wasn’t the place to send a daughter in search of a suitor, unless one was interested in alliances with Dunlending chiefs in exile – she curled her lips in distaste.

 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 

It was the first time she saw her uncle’s bared arms. She brought her hands to her face.

“Elbereth!” she gasped.

Aravir noticed what she was looking at and made a difficult to decipher face.

“Uncle! So many scars! What happened? Was it orcs?”

This elicited a small, sad smile.

“Yes, orcs.”

“But how did they bite you in combat? Were you ... tortured?” she asked, hesitantly, not fully sure if he wanted to talk about it, or did she want to hear the answer.

“No, not exactly. “ Aravir was beginning to show signs of merriment.

“Actually, it is Ashtuzual’s doing ... “

GASP and again hands to her face, with eyes widened in horror.

“When you quarrelled ... in anger .... she bit you?!? You shielded your face?!?”

Now the ranger chuckled.

“No, not in anger and I was not shielding my face. Your aunt bit me ... out of happiness. She did that to show me how happy she was. It’s ... it’s an orc thing.“ He was grinning, with a shade of sheepiness to it.

Indis mulled this newly acquired piece of information about her aunt and uncle.

“How sweet of you! It must have hurt you a lot! You were such a honey!” she giggled.

Putting a finger to her lips she asked

“Did your children bite you when they were happy too?” She asked.

The son of Arador assumed the colour of beet root.

“Noo ... no. It was a little husband and wife thing ... just the two of us.” Aravir heroically tried not to stammer.

It was only a day or two later that Indis recalled Aunt Ashtuzual’s comment on a girl’s half-absent look and grin plastered to her face – “hubby earned a bite or two last night, I see”. She went very red and fanned herself.

 

3005

Gwion dies. Three new villages were added to Little Dunland as the “originals” were full, at over sixty houses capacity. Some of the latest comers were living in huts outside the palisade. The new settlements were established to the east and south of existing ones, one just to the south of the Great East Road, the other two six miles to the south of it. This changed the pattern of villages from a triangle to a rectangle. The settlers were a mix of those in Little Dunland since 2991 - or their descendents – and for some reason unhappy with their lot at their present location.  The chief contribution, however, was made by the constant trickle of refugees from Dunland seeking a new home, with a sprinkling of land hungry Big Folk Breelanders and a few Haladin brought in by their cousins.

 

 

 

3006

Hadril marries Ityld, Gwion’s grandson. First fostered at Krikayrau he later served as one of Aravir's men at arms. The brideprice (plus some father's assistance) is used to establish a new village to South East of Krikayrau, where Ityld becomes chief. Marriage contract allows an Underwife only if Hadril is barren and if she approves of the candidate.

 

()()()()()()()

 

“Daughter. I’m worried”.

“Then don’t be. There’s nothing wrong with me.”

“But you are eighteen ...”

“And my brothers are over twenty ... “

“But time flows differently for men and women ... “

“Then think of me as a fourth son. I’ll become a _babohlop_.”

“WHAT?”

“Yes. I’ll follow the Dunlending custom and lead a man’s life. I’ll foreswear marriage and motherhood. I’ve seen enough births, with Ma or Hadril. Not for me.“ She looked at him with her light amber eyes.

“Ada, please, let me be.”

 

Aravir never questioned the affection his elder daughter had for Gudrun. The two seemed to be inseparable, like mother and daughter, whenever they were both in Manor. Pengyril had been very close to her mother and considering the long lasting and close friendship between Gudrun and Ashtuzual, it was quite natural for the dwarrowdam to serve as sort of surrogate mother.

 

AN:

 _babohlop-_ Google for “burnesha”. I thought it is cool and appropriate for a society with clans and blood feuds. And a fantastic  security valve for girls unhappy with the traditional woman's role in their society.

 

()()()()()()()

 

After two years of living at Krikayrau Aravir and Indis made a surprise visit at Inzilbeth and Tarkil’s home...

Indis launched herself in to her mother’s arms, saying that she had proposed and Aravir had accepted. They hugged and wept a few happy tears over the upcoming elopement. Screams of YOU MUST BE OUT OF YOUR MIND YOU HORSE FUCKED PERVERT indicated that the bride’s father was just beginning to wrap his mind around the idea of making their father in law – son in law relationship reciprocal. And that Tarkil had acquired his wife’s prejudices.

 

Tarkil was furious about his best friend Aravir taking a SECOND daughter off him. He had grown to consider Ashtuzual a daughter while Aravir was still considering giving her a push into the Lone Lands to go back to the orcs. And then he was powerless about things developing between them when he wasn’t there. Could not be there with her. But that was water under the Last Bridge by now. What was happening now was that his innocent baby was planning to elope with Aravir. And knowing him, he feared to ask his daughter of her “condition”. He feared of succumbing to the red fury which led his father to filicide if the answer was what he feared. And his wife was against him!

 

“C’mon, so in his bachelor days he could not keep it in his pants if there was a whorehouse within half a days distance? And he slept with a dozen widows in the Angle?” – Inzilbeth shrugged, absolutely unruffled.

“Did he harm the wenches? Any beaten up and bleeding widows in his wake? No? Then get over it. I've seen men do much, much worse, as you know.”

“For what we know he was a good and faithful husband to Lothiriel. I, for one, have no worries that OUR daughter will find anything besides love and dedication in his house! She loves him, never considered anybody else, I wish to see her happy. Get over it, I say. They have MY full support!”

 

()()()()()()()()()

 

 

GROAN

“Aravir, when you began to show interest in Ashtuzual THAT could be kept quiet. Later, when you eloped, those who knew kept their mouths shut. You kept out of public view and I helped with that. But – GROAN – there is no way we can keep Lord Helgon’s kinswoman’s marriage out of the public eye. And I’ve put so much attention on the Tarkils’ over your   adoption of Inzilbeth that gossips are all over them.” Aragorn put his elbows on the table, his head between his hands and looked at his uncle with pain and hurt in his eyes.

"Can’t you even go to the privy without causing a scandal? Can’t you marry like all other people?!? First an orc and now your own grand-daughter... " Aragorn winced and then moved to a dynastic issue.

"Your renouncing the ... "

"No, no change. That stays. I'd be the lowest cad if I changed that. My line is cut off from succession -  don't even bring this up, please."

()()()()()()()()()

 

Questions were raised at Aravir’s side as well. Reactions of his children ranged from the ugly to the pleased. The ugly came from his firstborn, Thiriston – accusing him of dishonouring Ashtuzual and treating his children like filth. That apparently he was ashamed of having sired a bunch of non-presentable half breeds with an orc and now wanted to sire “proper Dunedain brats” with a _real woman_ to make up for it. Aravir’s assurance that Indis’ children will be treated same as that had been fell on deaf ears. Hastogur and Gronguron had to drag the two eldest males of the family off one another. The pleased reaction came from Hadril, who was happy that father will no longer be lonely but will be loved and love in return. And that the step mother was somebody she knew, somebody she liked and considered a sister. The reactions of the others fell somewhere in between.

 

Nonetheless after Indis wed Aravir the household got along reasonably well. Thiriston grudgingly accepted Indis, thinking about her more in terms of “sister” (they had grown up together) than “mother”.

 

 

3007

The Chief Padrau and his brother in law, now the well off and respected elderman Rys, making use of the fact that there was a Lady of the Manor again, send a daughter each to Krikayrau for fostering. These girls probably will be the first Dunlander women to be able to read and write Common and Sindarin.

 

3008-17

Nothing exciting. Children are born, young people marry, old folks die. Little Dunland, with all its eight villages grows in population and prosperity. In the East the Shadow deepens, Gandalf asks for Aragorn to strengthen the watch around the Shire.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Timeline of sorts:

???? - Elrond, the Twins, Arwen “cradle snatcher” are born

????+1 – dirt invented

2770 – Smaug takes Erebor

2799 – Dain slays Azog at battle of Azanulbizar

2864 – Aithon born

2911 – Fell Winter

2920 – Thannor son of Aithon born

2926 – Tarkil son of Aithon born

2931 – Aravir and Aragorn born, Arador, Aravir’s father, dies

2933 – Arathorn, Aragorn’s father and Aravir’s brother, dies

2941 – Thorin’s Company retakes Erebor; Bolg kills Thorin and dies at hands of Boern

2951 – Inzilbeth born, Aragorn begins 30 years of travel

2966 – Tarkil helps Inzilbeth escape Rohan

2968 – Inzilbeth is adopted by Aravir and accepts offer of marriage from Tarkil

2972 - Ashtuzual born

2981 – fun begins; 50 y/o Aragorn engaged to c.2700 Arwen “cradle snatcher” Undomiel, finally assumes Chieftainship

2983 (?) – Angarad born

2984 – Aravir and Ashtuzual marry, Aithon banned from Angle for filicide

2985 – Ear/Gurun marries – with issue

2983 – Angarad born – half-orc girl adopted by Aravir and Ashtuzual

2986 – Thiriston born

2986 – Gronguron born

2987 – Hastogur born

2988 – Pengyril born

2989 – Hadril born

2992 - Little Dunland established, initially with three villages; becomes Broken Bone clan

2992 - Krikayrau Manor, dwelling of Aravir and family, established

3002 - Ashtuzual murdered by elves

 

My head canon has half orcs/honkers aging at human speed +25%, i.e. 18 year old Hadril would be 22 and a half in mind and body in human terms. Normal human, not Dunedain terms.

 

Tarkil&;Inzilbeth’s children:

Almarian (2969), Numenor princess with blue eyes

Elwing (2972), curvy lass with Numenor face, blue eyes and blond hair

Miriel (2980), posterchild for "this is how the Rohirrim look like" information campaign

Indis (2983), Numenor all the way, but wavy brown hair

Valandil (2985), Dunedain height, Rohirr round face with grey eyes, blond head

Earendur (2989), medium height, slightly stocky build, mixed facial features, blue eyes, raven hair


	2. The ride of the brothers, or The various shades of Grey - Part I

Dunland, 3019, February

“Who goes there?” – came the challenge in Common.

Halbarad knew that he did not have to issue any orders. His men knew what to do. He eyed the challenger instead. The man looked like a typical - if less scruffy than usual - Dunlander which –considering that they were riding through Dunland - was not exactly shocking. What could be surprising was the asking first, attacking later. Dunlendings were nor exactly enamoured with Rangers.

“Rangers” – he replied in the same tongue.

“Show star!”

That was new! Halbarad pulled aside a fold of the cloak to show the emblem.

“Ride on. At fallen log turn right. Ride straight to the camp. The challenge is “Silent death”, reply is “Helm”.

That was shocking. Not the challenge and reply, but the invitation. Was this the war band of his eccentric cousin, Aravir? Now led by one of his half-breed sons?

 

"So you want me to ride with the Grey Company because my father was a Ranger, a Dunedain. So - if I ride with you - can I become a Ranger? Will I be accepted as one of the Dunedain? Would my sons be trained as Rangers? Could they court your granddaughters?"

"Aragorn needs you. The foresight of the great Elven Lords says this mission is of utmost importance to the whole of Arda ... "

"Elf talk. Twenty eight, thirty or thirty one - does not matter. I'm not going."

"You are denying your Numenorian heritage."

Thiriston exploded.

" How dare you! Get the fuck out of here! Be gone from my camp. You treat me like worthless orc filth, not fit to live in the Angle or be a Ranger, and yet you say I'm abandoning my "Numenorian heritage." He spat out the last two words.

"Maybe my bothers are too thick skulled to notice, but it is YOU who are denying us our Numenorian heritage. You are aware that by birthright I’m Aragorn’s heir? That I have the right to show up at a Council meeting?“

He knew well that his father had renounced the claim. He understood the reasons. Even if he did not care much about the Dunedain that would die in the strife should he ever challenge for the chieftainship, he had no intention of getting himself killed in such a doomed-to-fail endeavour.

Halbarad’s impassive face twitched as in physical pain .

“Would you stand by me then?!? By my ... “ – he was getting a rise from making Halbarad squirm – “my Numenorian heritage?”

“After this expedition many attitudes might change ... “– Thiriston interrupted the older man.

“This means you won’t change! I’ll still be a half-orc mongrel, a shame to the Dunedain!” The _honker_ spat on the ground in front of the older Ranger.

He waved his hand at his band, the Dunlendings curious about the yelling in the elfish tongue.

"They stand by me. They hint at me taking their sisters as an underwife. That'd be an honour for them. They respect me. They don't care that my mother came from some cave near Gundabad. You care. You deny me my Dunadan birthright. You want a sword, a strong arm and no brain behind it. Once it’s done I’ll be told to get my stinking half-orc ass out of wherever you are going. Scoot!"

The Ranger turned and walked back to the Grey Company camp.

“And if my brothers won’t come back I’ll hang you by your guts!” – Halbarad expected this to be last thing he’d hear from Thiriston this day. He was wrong. A sarcastic sneer of

“Cousin!” – caught up with him.

 

()()()()()()()()()()

 

“Thiriston, we understand your reasons. Please understand ours. You were right saying that we’ll never be accepted. But by going with them we get a chance to avenge ourselves on the Master of those who killed Father.”

The eldest sighed.

“Still my brothers ... I still think you should stay in the North. But ride on with my blessing. Just don’t let that stone faced piece of scum use you as arrow catchers to save “pure Numenor blood”.

They hugged in a brotherly embrace before the younger duo mounted their steeds and rode south.

 

()()()()()()()()()()

 

 

“I keep on wondering if Thiriston wasn’t right. This is not our fight. Do you think legend will speak of us?” he adopted the style of a bard -

“Lo and behold, the Grey Company rode from the North. Led by Halbarad, merry like a graveyard, where gallant Pig-Squeal shared the fire with Out of his Pants the Fair, and Squirrel-Foot of sword mastery vied for glory with Ass Crack the Unwashed ... “ he stopped, while his bother snickered.

“Do you think the song would say something about heroic half orc brothers, strong of arm and keen of blade?”

“Meh” he spat into the fire.

 

“Now, if that wasn’t a stink eye ... “ Gronguron remarked.

“I fart in his general direction. Whoever it was.” Hastogur yawned, his eyes still closed. “Who was it this time?”

“One of the sons of Elrond.”

“Give me the creeps ... I feel them watching me, as if waiting for a wrong move and to pounce on me ... “

“Same here. Bonkers, the two of them. Ma was raped by Orcs and Haladin and we don’t spend all our time with hands in orc or Hillmen guts. And they’ve been doing that for what – half a thousand years? Sweet Elbereth, nutters, if you ask me ... “

The mention of their mother made Hastogur make a connection with elves.

“Remember the elves that killed Ma? They were kinda .. shiny like .... and looked different. Fox like faces, not round mugs like those two ... and they’ve got more meat on the bones ... ”

“They’re mongrels like us ... we can’t smell or see in the dark for shit, seems they didn’t get the shininess thingy “– Gronguron twisted to find a more comfy position by the fire.

“Maybe they could scrimshaw ... soothes nerves, they say .... “

 

Gronguron and Hastogur – advised to give the other half-breeds a wide berth, slowly made their acquaintance with the Rangers. This was not so easy, as they got up in the pre-dawn murk of the short February day, rode all day in cloaks, and made camp in the post sunset murk of the short February day. Most were unhappy to discover that “Avarir’s get” were as fluent in Sindarin as they were and – if they wanted to speak around them – they had to switch to Quenya. If they knew it, that is. Most of the Dunedain treated them with aloofness, making it clear that they wished to have the least contact possible with them.

“Imagine the shit Ma must have got ... “

 

Once their identity spread around the Company they were accosted by a giant of a man, a Ranger called Nightingale, or ‘Nighty for short. He smothered them both in a hug.

“First orc I ever saw was your mum. My first patrol, she saved my ass more times than I count. Good old Ear put her on the "keep the greenhorn alive" detail. Meaning – me.”  He explained, clearly emotional.

He added that of the six boys he graduated with, three died on their first patrol. He firmly ascribed his survival to Ashtuzual keeping his back.

 

“You are as alive as the guy keeping your back” seemed to be a favourite saying of his, and he offered to keep an eye on theirs. He told them – and they hang on his every word – of his ranging with their mother. As this had been his first patrol he could give them an almost day for day account of events. They adored him for this. He, in turn, asked them about details of her further life. Not a letter writing man, and always patrolling somewhere else than around Bree, he rarely caught snippets of news about Lil'l Liver. And he kept on putting off a visit.

“Stupid elven like mentality. A body keeps on forgetting that not everybody lives over a hundred. I’ll never forgive myself for not visiting... “

 

They spoke with ‘Nighty on how they had used to go patrols with the Rangers for ten years or so. Of the hopes they used to have - that they’ll be Rangers like their father. Even if their sire – gently – and older brother – flatly and venomously – said that it was very unlikely. Nonetheless their father had added them to Ranger patrols through the old boy network.

 

“We were kinda dense I suppose. We couldn’t grasp that for the Numenors, err, the Dunedain there’s a difference whether our mother was an Orc or Dunlander or Haladin or whatever. Tarkil’s maternal grandfather ran with the Rangers, half breed he was, Tarkil's sons were in Ranger training at that time even though they had less Dunadan blood than us - or the Olwina and Beleguron's boys we’ve been told about. So why not us? After all the Dunlendings we grew up around us did not care. Or if they did, the fact that we are the sons of the Numenor Lord outweighed it. And from the Dunlending boys we got stories that either their grandpa looked odd, with pointed ears, or that a family legend says that great-grandma had yellow eyes. That was our reference point. Not some pure blood shit.”

 

“Thiriston was brighter than we are – Ma’s death opened his eyes. The fact that she openly rode the breadth and length of Little Dunland was an accident - the outcome of this being Little Dunland and of her being the "friendly Numenor lord's" wife. It was the elf fucker and his arrow which are the norm, and not what we grew around with.”

 

Nightingale could only nod.

“Sucks. As to the other thing - a pity you never got to patrol with me. Too young to be a patrol leader at that time- I had  barely over twenty years of ranging at that time. Became a leader only a few years ago. Strawberry, now that’s a high flyer, a wonder you didn’t run into him. Made patrol leader the soonest possible and he’s been given acting lieutenant posts already.”

The giant was amused to learn that they were now kinsmen by marriage with Strawberry.

"Fancy that -he chuckled.

“We were on a patrol, ‘05 or ‘06 it must’ve been, the Rangers seemed friendly enough, we had liberated a wineskin, we were talking ‘bout various things ‘round the fire. This dreamy boy here” – Hastogur pointed his chin at his brother – “started waxing lyrical on the beauty of Dunedain girls. Elbereth, did the mood go to Mordor fast! We were immediately told that if we got our filthy half-orc cocks within sniffing distance of Dunedain cunny we’d be sporting our ripped off dicks out of our ears.”

Nightingale nodded with sympathy. He himself was courting and was not approved off by the father. But now, his niece, Nimbes, with Gronguron or Hastogur ... _a mental GULP_ ... he liked the lads well enough, but Nimbes and one of them ... Hastogur in particular, with his yellow eyes, pointed ears and flat nose ... he’d feel uneasy about it ... but if that was what Nimbes wanted ... he'd have to live with it, he supposed. But still he felt uneasy about it.

 

 

 

 

3019 TA, 6th March, Hornburg Castle.

“Aragorn, I must speak with you”.

“Uhm, Halbarad?”

“Why did you allow for things to come to this? For that half-orc to tell me that is your Heir?”

Aragorn had expected Aravir to have explained to his sons that he had renounced his claim to the Heritage of Isildur, so Halbarad telling him of Thiriston raising this question made him a bit worried. Was his dawdling over announcing this fact going to bite him in the arse after all?

He shrugged. There was nothing he could do about it now. The way things were going it would not matter either way.

“ _Honker_. Not half-orc.” – he corrected his interlocutor automatically – “He is and he isn’t the Heir. It is complicated. It is not a matter for here and now. Doesn’t matter – if the Ringbearer’s quest fails and I fall, in two years time the Orcs'll wipe out the Angle regardless of who is Chieftain – or if there is one at all. If the Ringbearer succeeds, I will then have heirs off my own body.”

“And what if the Ringbearer succeeds YET you fall? The Angle will reject the half-orc, the _honker -_ as you call him _-_ as Chieftain. And then what – civil war?”

Aragorn smiled.

“Have more faith in me, my friend.” And patted Halbarad on the shoulder.

“I’m not called Estel for nothing.”

 

“My brothers, please, give them peace.” – Aragorn asked his foster-bothers. “We are on the same side. At least ignore them.”

 

“Fifteen ... ten years ago we’d have kissed your boots. Today? Today we’ll follow you as kinsmen, not as Chieftain, uncle.”

 

()()()()()()

 

Gronguron was wounded at the Pellenor and stayed at the House of Healing in Minas Tirith. Hastogur rode on to the Black Gate.

 

 


	3. How they met - reposted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is "How they met" re-posted, as it fits in the narrative. Those aware of this min-story are invited to skip to the next chapter.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

AN: this is the minimally retouched “How they met” story I had posted some time ago. I put it here for completeness. Those familiar with it may skip on to the reunification of the brothers at Cormallen.

 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

3019 Third Age, 2nd half of March, Minas Tirith, Houses of Healing

 

Eowyn went to the garden where she was to find that Faramir the Warden talked about. She walked up to the bandaged man sitting on a bench. Seeing her approach he bowed:

 

„Greetings, Princess Eowyn. I beg your pardon for not standing but my leg can barely bear me.”

She was surprised that he recognised her immediately, but then again, wounded women were not exactly plentiful in the houses of healing. And doubtlessly her looks set her apart. She felt he was NOT the man she was looking for as he did not look Gondorian at all. He had such piercing pale blue eyes ...

 

„And you are ... “

 

„Apologies again, Princess, medication made me forget my manners – Gronguron son of Aravir.”

She couldn’t help herself and snorted. With his powerful build he did look like somebody who could do it, but to name a child like that ... The image of a crawling infant wielding a deadly rattle flashed across her mind and she giggled. She was immediately ashamed of her reaction and blushed. But the man just gave her a toothy smile.

 

„Never mind, princess, you are not the first to react this way. Ma named us boys after what she was thinking of doing to Father when she had us. The family consensus is that I got the short end of the stick, with my brothers getting off with Thiriston and Hastogur.“ He smiled at her with mirthful eyes.

 

She could not hold back and laughed openly.

„Very bloody minded woman, if you pardon me saying so ... “

„Yes, in many ways our Lady Mother was an unusual woman. “

„How did you know who I am? Have you seen the Steward, Lord Faramir? You are not of Minas Tirith, surely?” – She asked several questions without waiting for answers.

He held up a hand and began to uncurl his fingers as he began to answer her questions.

„I saw you at Dunharrow when passing with the Grey Company. As to ...

„So you are one of the Dunedain, kinsmen of Lord Aragorn?”

„... Lord Faramir, he left some time ago.”

 

He smiled at her again.

„Second cousin or something like that, actually. My father was his uncle, father-brother. Although I could call Aragorn uncle as he’s so much older. Sometimes I do, to get a rise out of him” – he chuckled.

 

She was astonished. By his openness. By the fact that Aragorn had family – he simply didn’t look the part. By looking as anything but a close blood relation. By being cheerful – the Grey Company had as much cheer to it as a bunch of remorseful perpetrators of matricide. Everything about him – starting with his face which in polite terms was „striking” or “ unique”– was different. Something tugged at her memory.

„Two of the Company sat around in cloaks all the time .... “

„Yes, Hastogur and I.”

„Why?”

 

For a moment he stopped smiling and his thin lips disappeared. But in a flash he regained his cheerful outlook and replied:

 

„There are many who find mine and my brother’s looks disconcerting. We did not wish to raise emotions.” – Yet somehow this did not sound the whole truth.

 

Well, Eowyn thought, he was darker skinned then the Eorlings, round faced, with slanted eyes. He sooner would pass as a Dunlending than a Dunadan.

 

And they had some small talk until they felt the chill and weariness from their wounds and medication. Going back to her room Eowyn noted that this was the first occasion she had laughed in months. She forgot about having to see Faramir about something. She was thinking of meeting the strange Ranger again.

 

()()()()()()()()

 

Over the next few days she fell into a rhythm of meetings with Gronguron. The late Boromir’s brother, the Steward Faramir joined them several times. The Gondorian, however, often tried to steer the conversation to subjects which were too high brow for her and for the northerner. So he stopped coming and she and the homely Ranger were left to enjoy their own company only. She couldn’t stop admiring the audacity of his mother to name him and his bothers thus, and his father’s acquiescence to such naming practices. For the time being she accepted that besides thinking of nasty things to do during birth, their mother liked “warrior names” for her boys.

 

„Do you have sisters?” – she blurted at some point.

He smiled. She knew such a smile – that of an older brother.

„Yes, two sweet little things they are, Cororistell and Gwinagiel." She felt her cheeks burn and eyes bulge and then she saw his face cracking into laughter.

She slapped his shoulder.

„You .. you ...”

„It’s a family joke. We boys sometimes teased them that way. In truth they are Pengyril and Hadril. But your face was worth it, Princess.”

 

Occasionally Aragorn cropped up in their conversations. Gronguron was, naturally, oblivious of her feelings towards his cousin. She was glad to hear about him as he was, not only as a leader of man. He diminished in her eyes, was no longer the almost Valar like hero, yet she warmed to him as a person. She somehow came around to see him through the ranger’s eyes, as an uncle, someone akin to Théoden, and not an object of her ... love? Desire? Lust? Worship? Infatuation?

 

She quickly and skilfully pried out of him was there any girl waiting for him up north. She felt a touch of bitterness in his answer that no. He said that no girl of his father’s people – or rather the girls’ fathers – as besides his female cousins he had to see such a girl yet – would consider him as he was a half breed. Well aware of the haughtiness and bloodline purity obsession of Gondor’s nobility of Numenorian descent (she was one fourth herself) this did not particularly surprise her. He also considered himself ugly. Short and ugly. True that she was taller, but she was a quite tall woman, even among the Eorlings or Gondorians. But he was in no way weedy – easily the same breadth of shoulders like her brother. True – a head shorter than the Numenorian standard, be these Dunedain of the North or South.

 

Although not enthusiastic over her ride with the Muster of the Mark, he appeared to accept it. Apparently his sisters were trained for scouting duty. He only worried that mass melee, with emphasis on brute strength and resilience would put a woman in serious disadvantage. And Gronguron was astonished that she he been given individual combat training only.

„You were not taught to lead? You were not instructed how to command small groups of Riders?" – He asked with disbelief. In his eyes if a highborn was trained in arms beyond self-defence her education should not stop at the basic level. His - shocking to her - line of thinking was that she was taught to lead others anyway – after all he had seen her running a household with scores of people and various discrete elements - „so why not extend it to the practice of arms?

 

Pleasant as their conversations might be, they looked out at the dark clouds over Mordor and felt dread over the outcome. This led to moments of grave silence. One day they raised this subject. He had a cut up leg and limited movement in his shield arm – it had been hit and heavily bruised at Pellenor.

 

„I’m not letting them take me alive. If my leg doesn’t heal I’m putting a blade through my heart.”

He looked at her.

„I ... my sword arm is still weak and numb ... I’ll throw myself down the walls, I guess ...”

„Good” - he nodded solemnly – “don’t let them take you alive.”

„And if my resolve wavered ... “ she looked at him searchingly.

„I will kill you before I kill myself. Don’t worry.” – he reassured her solemnly.

Somehow she felt she could trust him in this regard.

()()()()()()()

 

One day Merry joined them. Initially he seemed wary and suspicious of the northerner, but this changed over several things. One was quite straightforward – it was his kinship with Aragorn – or Strider as they both called him. But the main was his father's acquaintance with a certain hobbit – one Bilbo Bagginsson. The last was more interesting to Eowyn’s eyes, or specifically ears. When speaking to Merry Gronguron switched to a different form of Westron than the one he spoke with her. Merry was astonished

„you speak like a Hobbit!”

„Like a Breelander, actually. That’s where I’ve lived all my life.”

„So you don’t live where the other Rangers live?” – This made Merry ponder the issue - where DO Rangers live?

"I don’t live where the Rangers live because many people are unhappy with something my father had done, and where the Rangers live is a secret. Normally I would have even denied that they lived anywhere at” – he continued amused,

"But I wouldn’t dare lie to such bright minds like yours.”

 

The ever optimistic Hobbit asked about their post war plans and waxed lyrical about the personality of some Estella Bolger. Gronguron, to be polite, said that there will always be orcs and mannish as well as dwarrow bandits for Rangers to fight. Or maybe he’d stay in the south if the Chieftain had need for them, although in his and his brother’s case this was unlikely.

 

()()()()()()()

 

The Princess invited Gronguron and Merry to ride with her to Cormallen where she was summoned by her brother. They were provided with an escort of Riders from the Westfold. Eowyn did not notice some of the Riders looking quite shocked upon setting eyes on the Ranger. His proximity to the Princess made their eyes harden and they kept constant vigil, with spear and bow at the ready.

 

At first opportunity the escort’s leader approached Eowyn.

„Princess, may I ask for a word?”

„What is it, Wulfric?”

„Do you know who he is?”

„Gronguron son of Aravir, a Ranger from the North. Kinsmen to Lord Aragorn.”

„I don’t know what sort of kinsmen he may be but if that is true, then strange kin do they keep in the north. Do you not see him for what he is?”

„I’ve never met anybody like him.”

„Yet I’ve seen way too many, Lady. This is how the best soldiers of Isengard look like. He is a half orc. Better send him away for your safety. “

 

Eowyn was shocked. A half orc? From Isengard? Besides everything he told her being consistent and making sense, some details about Bree being confirmed by Merry, she had seen him ride with the Grey Company with her own eyes. The man she had been spending a few hours a day for the last sennight was a half orc? Her thoughts where in a whirl. His horse drew up alongside her and he opened his mouth to speak.

„Leave me alone! I need to think!” – she snapped.

 

He was startled by her aggression and rudeness. He stared for a moment then rode away muttering – “by your leave” - towards Merry.

 

She started going over in mind all that he had said about his family and life. Some pieces began to assume new meaning. She suddenly thought that by right his father should be Aragorn’s heir – yet she had heard Stormcrow mumble about “the last of this line”. Also the revelation – “not living where the other Rangers live but in some other place” – gained new depth. “It was because of many people not liking what my father had done”. Same as no Dunadan father considering his suit for his daughter. Was that thing his father had done HIM? His siblings too? Was his or their mother an ORCESS? There WERE orcesses? Orcs were NOT born from filth rotting in humid caves? She decided to resolve the matter Eorling style.

 

She rode up close to the pair and called out for Gronguron to join her.

She asked

„Are you a half orc?”

He looked at her with an unascertainable expression and nodded:

„Yes. A honker, actually."

„What’s that?”

„Mother orc, father Man. Half-orcs have it the other way around. “

Bema! They even had names for different breeds!

Imagining their making made her bilge rise.

“And the people you live around .. don’t mind ... “

“The Breelanders were told a lie that Ma was cursed by the elves. The Dunlanders did not mind.”

“What Dunlanders?!?” - she snapped.

“Father helped Dunlendings flee Dunland from Saruman’s – as we know today – rule. They live in a few villages near Bree. That’s where I was brought up, growing up amongst Dunlendings.”

Eowyn was unsure what was more disgusting – half-orcs or Dunlendings ...

 

She was confused. On one hand the homely looking ranger had not misled her in any way, even if he was very economical with the truth. This made her think of Grima. Although Grima was worst – he twisted the truth, whereas Gronguron simply kept it to himself. And he was, by blood, a filthy, murderous orc. Brought up among filthy Dunlendings too boot. Yet on the other hand he was Aragorn’s cousin. And to date she felt herself comfortable in his company. He had come from the Far North to fight the enemy at Pellenor Fields. He had always been courteous, even if with tendency for low brow humour. He could have knifed her hundreds of times. He made her smile.

Now made her nauseous.

 

By the time the troop reached Osgiliath the Daughter of Eomund had made up her mind. She wanted no truck with this man. Man? Coming from a Man and an Orc? Of the same kind which had savaged the Westfold so? And rubbing shoulders with dirty Dunlendings since birth? This meant she no longer had agreeable company for the journey. And she did not have much to look out for at the end of it.

 

Who would she meet at Cormallen - Aragorn? She did not feel like setting her eyes on him ever again. Eomer – the overbearing brother, who would cage her just like Grima – she shivered – had done? She didn’t know anybody else amongst those gathered there.

There were worse fates than listening to poetry in Quenya, she decided.

„Wulfric?”

„Lady?”

„We turn back, my wounds have worsened.”

„Aye, Lady!”

...

Gronguron rode on towards Cormallen, where cousin Aragorn and brother Hastogur awaited him. And Merry was chatty company. And cooked!

()()()()()()()()

Names: 

Cororistell and Gwinagiel. [Ball Ripper & Cock Biter]

versus actual

Pengyril and Hadril [Killer Bow & Spear Thrower]

Thiriston – scared face; Gronguron - clubs to death; Hastogur – kills with axe


	4. The ride of the brothers, or The various shades of Grey - Part II; 3018/19 events

3019 TA, Early April, Cormallen

Reunited with his sibling at Cormallen, Gronguron told his junior of what had transpired between their good-byes at the Houses of Healing and now.

“Stupid, naive, rainbow-chaser ... “- Hastogur was not exactly sympathetic, nodding his head with a “the stupid never learn” expression. After a moment his eyes brightened and he burst with the news.

“The camp followers are here, bro! There’s more Dunedain cunny here than you can shake your _honker_ willie at! With all respect, some of them make our dear step mother look positively Dunlending!” he smacked his lips, his features assuming a leering, more orcish than usual appearance.

 

Firiel was initially wary of the powerfully built shorty. He drooled at her sight – her experience had taught her that such customers, unless still acne afflicted youths, were trouble. Painful trouble. Could go crazy on her and try to cut her up. So far this one proved harmless. Even if his ... enthusiasm left her sore and tender. She’d heard men grunt all sorts of things when they climaxed but “NUMENOR” was new. The first time she thought she had misheard and it actually was “Valinor”, but it wasn’t.

 

The brothers found a sport to pass the time along. Teaching whoever wanted to hear – and many who didn’t – Dunlending songs. Gondorians or Rangers mangling the words, humming or whistling “My love is picking apples in the orchard”, or “The partridge ran across the streams and copses” were innocent enough. However, the brothers and Nightingale belting out “The boys are going over the Isen” next to the lines of a Westfold eored led to a moonlight chase with ambushes and fistfights. After they repeated the experience two days later Aragorn demanded they stop.

 

3019, May to July, Minas Tirith

 

They stayed in Minas Tirith for some time as their safe passage through the Mark on their own could not be guarantied. There – same as at Cormallen – Gandalf occasionally took leave from his gloating at all his plans coming to a successful conclusion and demonstrated a friendly – if annoyingly patronising – attitude towards them. Hastogur's off duty activities may be best described as of the sort leaving him “tired but happy” while Gronguron longed to go home. After the wedding they were assigned – at her insistence – to the Queen as her guards. Aragorn was amused while his brothers in law were livid. Their sister gifting them with scrimshaw kits did nothing to improve their tempers.

 

They finally left the White City as part of King Elessar’s entourage when the monarch travelled to the land of the Horse Lords with the body of Theoden King.

When leaving Gondor a cloak wrapped figure, with face covered by hood, rode up to his brother and then stuck to him like a burr. This explained why Hastogur had volunteered them for rearguard duty, Gronguron realised. He looked questioningly at his sibling.

“Firiel” – he heard as way of explanation – “now keep your mouth shut or you’re dead.”

The blue eyed son of Aravir could only snicker.

 

 

At Isengard the brothers looked wide-eyed at the place where so many like them – according to Gandalf – had been bred. Bred like animals. They were beside themselves in fury. Treebeard – whom Gandalf insisted they meet – decided to moot the addition of “honker and half orc, of mixed parentage and allegiance unknown” to the list of known creatures to other Ents at the nearest Moot.

 

It was at Orthank that they left the company of the King Elessar, of the Hobbits and the Elven Lady and Lords – and the sons of Elrond (to mutual relief) and together with Nightingale and Firiel – which took some persuading (and a raise) to accompany them - they took the Green Way. They somehow missed Saruman and Grima on their way north. The foursome reached Krikayrau in early September.

 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 

3018-19 events around Breeland.

 

3018, April

At Aragorn’s request Aravir takes half of his men for vigil around the Shire. He picks his old stomping grounds, the approaches to the Sarn Ford. He is accompanied by Gronguron and Hastogur.

Thiriston and Pengyril with the remainder of the company go orc hunting near the gates of Moria.

 

3018, September 22nd

The Black Riders roll over Aravir’s band. The son of Arador himself is killed, his men – including his sons – scattered.

 

3018, November

The sons of Aravir, their retainers, and warriors of the Broken Bone leave Krikayrau for a raid against Saruman’s supporters in Dunland. The White Wizard was miss-constructed by them as being somehow linked with the Black Riders who killed their father.

 

3018, December

Gudrun was wounded when wolves attack Krikayrau’s herds. She vowed never to fight in deep snow again. Village chiefs, retainers and eldermen vigorously patrol lands around Little Dunland against wolves and Ruffians.

 

 

3019, February

The raiding party in Dunland struck into a void. It found neither Dunlending warriors nor orcs to fight. Instead they found women, old men and children locked up in villages for protection. It met the Grey Company which Gronguron and Hastogur joined. After some looting of Three Fang clan's villages the raiding party returned north.

 

3019, March and April

Attempts at causing trouble at Dunlending villages fail, some of Saruman’s agents switching sides. A ruse draws out Thiriston and most men at arms on a wild goose chase and Ruffians attack the Krikayrau Manor. Ityld (Hadril's husband) and retainers chase off attackers.

 

3019, May onwards

 

Snowy winter delayed Orc reinforcements from Misty Mountains. These join the fighting in May. Owing to presence of warg riders Thiriston organises and leads a small cavalry unit. The unit is composed of two to four riders - chiefs sons or retainers - from each village and Krikayrau, about fifteen strong overall.

 

 

3019, June

While Thiriston was riding down warg riders in the North Downs, Rangers appeal for help. Pengyril and Dageth ride South.

Thiriston dies in clash in North Downs with most of his unit. This deprives the Manor and Little Dunland of ten of its best trained and best equipped fighters.

 ...................................

Snikrut dismounted to check the _shara_ for loot. The wargs had already “nibbled” at the body, ruining the clothing, so he hoped for money and weapons. After turning the body onto its back he looked at the fallen rider’s face with astonishment.

“What the fuck? A _balaak_ , no, _honker_ , riding with the _shara_?”

Before walking away with the loot and leaving the body for the wargs he spat on it for good measure.

 .....................................

 

3019, July and August

Constant skirmishes with Ruffians and orcs attacking those trying to bring the harvest in. In August Krikayrau is assaulted again. Desperate fighting involving women. Haston and Gudrun die in combat. Most Dunlending villages attacked, some several times.

 

3019, September and October

The Broken Bone goes to war. The two smallest villages are evacuated to lessen the number of defenders needed to protect the women and children. Some men are sent to Krikayrau to bolster its defence as most men at arms were dead. The Clan swears to avenge the deaths of its members, as well as those of Aravir, Thiriston and Haston - three Lords of the Manor inside less than a year. Chetwood Forest is cleansed in heavy fighting, with no quarter given. All remaining horses used to carry troops in sweeps around Little Dunland. Last major band – forty fighters or so – surrenders in woods to the north of Bree. All prisoners are drowned in Midgewater Marsh.

 

General note:

There was an inflow of genuine refugees and Saruman’s agents into Eriador in the Autumn of 3018. Some of these drifted into Little Dunland, while others were directed there by the Breelanders. The inflow of refugees and Ruffians resumed after the snows melted, i.e. those who set out in late February or early March (just before the Destruction of Isengard) began to cause trouble in April and May. Once troubles – including sabotage attempts - began, the chiefs rounded up single men amongst the refugees - genuine or not - and used them as forced labour under guard. Those which did not run away – for which the fighting gave many opportunities - were later accepted as settlers. This added an unknown number of _honkers_ to the gene pool


	5. The misadventures of Dageth

3018 autumn

 

“I can’t marry you ... “

“Why?”

“I’m a half orc!”

“I know, I don’t mind ... “

“But the whole Angle minds! Even if they’d let me in, which I doubt, my life there would be awful. Ask Indis about the shit her mother and elder sisters got for being half Forgoil ... “ she paused for breath.

“Your mother would slit my throat to clear the way for a grey eyed pale skinned raven haired beanstalk. She won’t be happy with a squinty hazel-eyed sallow skinned mousy haired fat assed shorty. No, she won’t!”

“But my father adored your grandmother ... “

“And so what? Men and women live in two different worlds beside one another. In the women’s world I’ll get shit. Most men would give me shit too.”

“Then I’ll live with you here!”

Dageth began to harbour hope he might be serious.

“And after ten years you’ll say that this is a filthy orcish dump, I’m not worthy of being your wife, you’ll leave me with a bunch of brats and a pouch of coins if I’m lucky – and scoot off to the Angle? Or if you won’t have the guts for it – keep on whining on how low I am and how fucking honourable you are not to dump me nonetheless?”

Dagmagol was taken aback by such negative expectations.

“No ... I’ll never ... no ... “

“If you are serious, come back in a year and ask me again.”

XXXXXXXXX

Angarad heard her elder daughter sobbing. She entered Dageth’s room and saw her lying belly down on the bed. She sat beside her and rubbed her back.

“He proposed.”

The elder woman did not need to ask who. But why the sobbing? Surely a proposal was a good thing?

“I told him to go away and come back in a year if he was serious about me. I ... I would like him to. But .. I ... don’t ... think ... he ... will .... “ came the sobbed out words.

 

Angarad kept on comforting her daughter. Oh, why hadn’t she set her sights on some nice Dunlander boy? The Numenors were much more complicated and – as attested by the legends of their people – a pain to know.

XXXXXXXXX

3018-19 – winter - the Angle

He had left Krikayrau with a heavy heart. Back in the Angle he quietly sounded out his parents on the prospect of a non Dunadan daughter in law. He cunningly was vague on who might she be, raising it as a purely hypothetical question. His father Gurben (known as Ear in his time as Ranger) took it in stride, saying that he would prefer a girl of Numenorian descent but - as the non-Dunadan wives he knew were all decent sorts - he did not see a problem. Smiling, his father fingered the family's heirloom, the collar of a long dead daughter of the Chieftain of the Hillmen of Rhadaur, the collar which had saved their ancestor from death:

"Wouldn't be the first time, son" - switching to a more serious voice - "considering this" - he fingered the collar again - "I don't think I could deny you such a choice."

 

His mother, Tygil Irongrip, was a different matter altogether. First she suspected him of impregnating a girl, but -

“If the silly wench is with child with you this does not mean you have to marry her. Should’ve kept her knees together”.

This indifference towards another woman’s lot surprised him.

 

He explained that no, he was not on his way to become a father. This calmed her down. However, saying that “there is this nice Dunlending girl ... “ led to a session of hand wringing and being on the receiving end of a listing of a dozen names of “good Dunedain girls who would make him happy”, interspersed with variations on the “are you sure you know what you are doing” question. Adding that the nice Dunlending girl MIGHT have an orc in the family tree made his mother explode! He was asked several questions:

\- “How could you do this to me?”

\- “What did I do to make you hate me so?”

\- “Do you want me to die of a stroke?”

\- “Do you have rancid semen for brains?”

 

Dageth was right, he had to admit. He smiled – the married blokes were always making fun of infatuated youngsters telling them that a fact they’ll soon discover about their wives is that “they are always right”.

XXXXXXXXX

3019 – Autumn, Krikayrau.

Dagmagol and his father arrived at Krikayrau.

After exchanging customary blah-blah and refreshing themselves Gronguron led them to one of the well light rooms in the south-west corner.

“We hoped to talk with Thiriston. Or Aravir.”

Gronguron brought them into the picture as to the losses of the House of Aravir over the last 12 months.

 

They stated their business. Contrary to their expectations Gronguron looked surprised and anxious, as if distressed over something. He asked for Dageth to be summoned.

Seeing her advanced pregnancy Dagmagol was speechless, then he bolted towards the door like a warg chased rabbit.

“SIT” – came a whipping roar from Gronguron and his one hundred thirty five year old father demonstrated reflexes which kept him in employ as instructor to prospective Rangers and nabbed him.

The young Ranger was forcibly seated, while Dageth said with a breaking voice.

“I was raped. I was raped by orcs.”

“Purging didn’t work.” – Gronguron added.

Gurben rose and hugged her.

Gronguron pushed his tankard of ale at the young Ranger who picked it up and downed it thoughtlessly – gazing fixedly before him.

Then Dagmagol got up and replaced his father in embracing Dageth.

“Will you marry me?”

XXXXXXXXX

The two visitors from the Angle were brought up on the misadventures of Dageth this year. The Ranger supervising the operations around Bree had wished to inform the Chieftain - now King of Gondor - of the events. He came to Krikayrau to ask Thiriston for assistance with the surge of Ruffians and for help in getting a message to Aragorn. With all elder males absent the “man of the house” was the teenage Haston – still alive at that time. Hot-headed himself, he was swayed by his twin’s enthusiasm for adventure and over-rode Gudrun’s protests. The dwarrow's protests were weakened by Pengyril’s readiness to ride with her niece – she was footloose herself.

XXXXXXXXX

 

3019 TA – Summer, the Gap of Rohan

Pengyril screamed in pain. She saw the bloody arrowhead sticking out of her stomach. Her nose told her the worst possible news. She cried out to her niece as loud as she could:

“Hit in the gut! Can smell shit! Run!”

 

She threw her bag with letters to Dageth. They had split them into “Mark” and “Gondor” and carried them separately in case “something” happened to one of them. It now did and her brother’s daughter was to carry both. Pengyril turned the horse around and drew her tuck, the square cross-section thrusting sword her brother had ordered for his sisters. Its four foot blade gave them greater reach then men. This weapon was useful only from horseback, a substitute for a spear. The men were too close for arrows. She skewered the first, the Rider surprised that her weapon was a foot longer than his. Then she traded blows in a fly-by with the second and slammed her horse into the third ones’. She pinned the unhorsed rider to the grass. To her joythe second rider had come back for her. The idiot gave Dageth more time to escape. To improve her niece's chances she focused on self defence and on wounding the horses. She managed to wound horses numbers two and four. Then they crowded her and she left the tuck in a Rider’s belly and switched to the sword. The melee was concluded by number five’s rider thrusting his spear through her ribs.

 

Riding away Dageth could not stop the silent tears streaming down her cheeks. There was only one way she could thank aunt Pengyril for saving her life – by delivering those fucking missives to whomever they were intended for.

XXXXXXXXX

 

3019 TA – Summer, Hornburg Castle – two days later

Eberhart looked at the three riders with a mixture of fury and resignation.

“You can envy Karl and Edelwulf, they are dead. Or Leofdeg - dying from a gut wound” – he snarled at his Riders.

“You are dead men walking” – he yelled at them. Their cringing did not make him feel better.

“You have ruined your families! They are destitute!” Before this sunk through he began to speak quietly and thus even more menacingly.

“You have murdered a royal messenger. You have murdered a woman. Part orc – maybe this will get you off the murder of woman charge, maybe, but she was a royal messenger nonetheless. This makes highway robbery and manslaughter look minor by comparison. Did it into come into your thick brainless skulls to CHALLENGE them first?!?”

He composed himself.

“I not only have the woman to contend with. She is here, coming to terms with her loss, a few rooms away. I have Aragorn King in Mundburg, wondering why are his messengers being murdered in the Mark. And finally there is Eomer King – whose men have just murdered his shield-brother’s messenger.”

He started to walk around the room to help contain himself.

”Under King Fengel you would have been killed, painfully, your ashes thrown into the Isen, your property confiscated and wives and children sold into slavery.”

Silently he wondered how, by Bema, some half-orc wench from the wilds of the Far North ended up with a name like "Dageth daughter of Thiriston". Like some Gondorian or something ...

XXXXXXXXX

 

Dageth related later events:

“I begged clemency for their families, but the wergild for a Royal Messenger is such that they had their land confiscated. And Eberhart kept the “murder of woman” charge. He told me that he kept it out of respect – Pengyril killed three Riders! And that Eberhart also told me that the wergild for a woman in the Westfold is double that for a man – that hit the families hard. At the same time in the Eastfold a woman's wergild is half that of a man's. And equal in the rest of the country. Go figure ...

 

I was then sent back home, under escort of the three surviving ex-Riders. These were sentenced to twelve years thraldom to me and banished from the Mark forever. If I didn’t make it home their families were to be punished for it. We were ambushed by orcs on the Greenway. They were killed and I was raped. The orcs in turn were attacked by Dunlanders from the Leaping-Stag clan. Before they picked up where the orcs had stopped I managed to convince them that they’ll get good money for bringing me home, plus friendship of the Broken Bone and Three Arrows clans. I cheated a bit claiming to be a chief’s daughter.

 

And then I did not bleed and this – she pointed at her belly – began to grow – and the herbs did not help, and aunt Hadril refused to let me puncture myself. She said better for me to bring this to term than to risk ruining my womb forever. ” Her narrative came out in an increasingly bitter voice.

 

Throughout the story Dagmagol held his intended in his arms and vowed to himself to never let her come in harms way again.

 

“And had I waited in Hornburg for two more weeks” – her voiced reached the most acrid point of its bitterness in telling the tale – “I’d had gone north with uncles. And I wouldn’t had been fucked by orcs. EVERYTHING that could go wrong went wrong!”

 

“You are alive, that’s what matters .... “ Dagmagol tried to sooth her and rocked her.

XXXXXXXXX

 

3020 – Winter, February Krikayrau.

 

Gronguron looked into the yellow eyes of the mewling infant which Dageth had just borne. Somebody, he didn't note who, said:

"It's cold outside. A quarter of a candle will be more than enough."

He couldn't bring himself to do it. Besides, there was food a plenty.

"He'll be brought up as a "child of the House", he announced his decision.

"Duvainor (Beautifil Darkness). No connection to Dageth to be mentioned unless she wishes so."

XXXXXXXXX

 

Dagmagol and Dageth married in February, before the rapechild was born. Dageth insisted on this - if things turned for the worst she wanted to die a married woman. The wedding feast was held in October 3020, with a weepy Tygil attending. The young couple settled in Little Dunland, the Angle not being ready for them.


	6. Loose ends and marriage knots are tied

Year 1 FA (3022 FA), Krikayrau

 

Gronguron could see that the “girls” were drunk. They were stately matrons, of course, but as he had grown up with his brother’s widow and his step-mother as playmates, for him they were “girls” forever.

They had dragged him to the solar for a serious talk about the three of them. Now they were nudging one another to begin. Aha! It was drunk courage then. Finally Indis spoke:

“You know how important marriage is in life ... “

“That’s not how you were supposed to say it!” - Angarad protested in a whiney manner.

So it was about them remarrying. In theory he could deny them, but how could he? Adult women, with grown up children, widows for well over two years ... But Krikayrau would not be the same without them, without their children. If they married and left then maybe he really should get serious marrying himself, to stave off loneliness. Hastogur marrying Firiel should produce the Heir to the Manor. If not, it would pass on to Dageth. The "girls" departures to their husbands would leave empty spaces in his heart. And in the Manor too - Krikayrau always had been full of children. But he wished them all the happiness in the world.

“I will not stand in your way. You can marry any man of your choosing ....”

This produced a frenzy of giggling, hugging, blinking – looking at him, then at one another, screeching - “he said!” – and repetition of the process. He was no longer unsure whether drunk women were more adorable or irritating. He was inclining to the latter opinion ...

Composing themselves they grinned at him (with the stiff and too broad grins of the intoxicated) and – after a signal – made serious faces and both pointed a finger at him.

“We want you. Will you marry us?”

 

XXXXXXXXX

Year 1 FA (3022 FA), Minas Tirith

 

Aragorn groaned and double face palmed. Arwen, reclining on a couch, turned her leaden gaze to him, peering above her view-obscuring belly like a heavy infantryman above a shield’s rim. She raised a perfect sable arc in question.

“Aravir. Aravir haunts me ... “ he mumbled.

“Didn’t he fell to Ring wraiths in 3018?”

“Yes, he did - but his son married. Remember Aravir’s marriages?”

“Yes. When he married his legal granddaughter you said something along the lines of – “can’t go to the privy without causing a scandal, let alone marry”. What happened this time? Which son is it?” – she said, preparing herself for another dose of innocent yet mores’ shattering scandal. Aravir had supplied her with such merriment for years.

“Gronguron – his second son – now the eldest - married. “ Aragorn groaned again. He took a deep breath.

“He married Indis, who is his father’s widow and legally his niece. And he ALSO married Angarad, his BROTHER’s widow. She is his foster-sister, by the way ... “

Arwen looked at him quizzically. She raised two perfect sable arcs in mute question and lifted a hand with two extended fingers for emphasise.

“Yes! Both of them.”

The corners of her mouth were twitching.

“How?”

“They jointly proposed to him as they are lonely windows. They used Dunlending custom. And he flatly stated that if I don’t like it I can shove it – he’ll declare allegiance to the Broken Bone clan and that’s that .... “

The queen’s laughter could be heard all over the citadel. For the next week or so she was in excellent spirits, ignoring all pregnancy related discomfort. She also scandalised lady Glessil who came to her for advice, asking would it be better to marry her daughter Fuirdis to lord Ionor or Angrenor? The Queens outrageous answer of “to both” was eventually written off as a variation of the elven “yes and no” answer.

 

 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 

“How could you have done this to us?”

“How could you marry Gronguron?”

“And together with Angarad too? How could you become a ... a ... a concubine?”

“I was lonely, I like him, he is a good match. I get along with Angarad well – so what’s the problem? And we are both First wives – or both concubines – so we are equal rank, if that matters to you.”

“It is not our way ... “

“So I did it the Dunlander way. Get over it. Or maybe I even did it the ORC way?!”

Both her brothers winced.

“But ... but ... sharing .... “

“Lots of women share. Lots of men run around sticking their cocks into whores – that makes their wives share, eh? At least I get to share with a woman I know and like.”

The brothers evidently were not happy with the terminology used by their sister.

“And Gronguron ... “

“Gronguron is a good man. You’ve known him since you’ve been teens.”

“But he is a half orc.”

“Cock’s no different.” – getting a rise of her brothers – who had thoroughly pissed her off by this point – was entertaining.

“INDIS!”

“I’m his _shauk_ , not a _htol-snaga_ – that make you feel better, brothers?” – she opened a wound, poked her finger inside and wiggled.

They were disgusted at the harsh sounding orcish and its meaning.

“Indis, think about what mother would say!  She gave up everything for all of us to have the kind of lives she could only dream of.  First you shame her by marrying your own grandfather - now this?  Inzilbeth daughter of Aravir is rolling in her grave at the thought HER BABY is sharing her bed with this...this.....half-breed!”

Inzilbeth youngest daughter looked at her brothers’ awestruck. If stupidity could shine she’d be blind. She blinked, nonetheless. And screamed with laughter.

“Now there is stupid and there is STUPID ... “she muttered half to herself, no longer carrying about relations with her brothers. Her sisters were more or less accepting, that was enough family for her. The two spoilt pea-brains she could live without.

She stood.

“It is you who dishonour Mother by dragging her into this.” She squinted at them, her glare the colour of finest steel.

”I had her blessing to wed Aravir, it was Father who posed problems. Mother had always respected Aravir – and respected his PURE ORC WIFE – yes, I shared the bed of an _orc shagger_ ” – she hissed with venom into their revulsion brimming faces.

“And now I lay with a _honker_ and I’m proud of it – he is a better Man that you are.”

She wiped her face of sweat her laughter and now anger had produced.

She pulled herself straight and crossed her arms over her chest.

“So, if you didn’t come here to congratulate your widowed sister on finding herself a husband instead of staying a lonely widow – get out.. You’ll make it to the Swine’s Grin by nightfall.”

Valandil and Earandur spent the night in Staddle.

 

Once her brothers had left she went to Angarad for a hug. And for silence in which to calm down in. The male side of the family absolutely refused to accept their triangular arrangement. She had invited her Father to the wedding. In a long letter she explained that all her life she had observed such arrangements among the Dunlendings and that they seemed to work – or not – just like "normal" marriages. She emphasised that she and Angarad were two women grown, about forty each, with children in their teens or older. That they were widows in search of companionship. He did not reply nor come to the wedding. Tough.

 

Her sisters replied to her letters still, that had to be enough. Miriel’s letters from Minas Tirith were a joy, describing the wonders of Gondor where her husband Langon went to assist the ex-Chieftain. Amalarian’s letters, in turn, told her about events concerning the resurrected Kingdom of Arnor in which they now lived. With Olon Halfhand being one of the highest officers of the realm, she was privy to what Aragorn was planning for the Northern kingdom. The sons of Helgon were making it big, it seemed. Mother would be so happy! Elwing’s missives were full of cheer, about her life on the farm and children growing up. Strawberry – one of the unsung heroes of the little known War in the North – was made captain of the Rangers. Barely past sixty and with a very non-Dunadan looking wife – maybe attitudes were changing.

 

15 FA, Annuminas, Royal Residence.

In FA 15 King Aragorn and Queen Arwen arrived in Arnor and held Court at Annuminas. Among the various ceremonies one was devoted to honouring the still living members of the Grey Company. Preceded by a ball the previous day.

Arven heard her husband gasp and then swear under his breath. She was struggling not to laugh. Her walking over the Master of Ceremonies yesterday was paying off. There was a gaggle of women standing next the herald and waiting to be announced. The white manned Gronguron stood in their front row, flanked by a still mostly black-haired woman of evidently Numenorian heritage -and half a head taller then him - on one side, and a grey haired squat lady with slight orcish features on the other. Behind them stood four women on both sides of twenty – three Dunedain princesses and a younger and more comely copy of the grey haired women.

“Knight of the Grey Company and Cousin to the King, the Lord of Krikayrau, Gronguron son of Aravir and his wives, the Ladies Angarad and Indis, and their daughters.” – boomed the herald’s voice.

“Couldn’t he show up one day with one, another day with the other?” – Elessar hissed to his wife.

“If Gondor can live with Harad ambassadors with six wives, Arnor will survive Gronguron’s duo.” – she hissed back, recomposing her face to beam at the new arrivals.

Now it was the turn of Hastogur and Firiel to take to the dais to be announced. Aravir's third son always had been the most orcish looking of his siblings. Now, with his baldness uncovering his slightly pointed ears, he looked more orcish then ever. His wife, a head taller, looked as if she had just disembarked from one of the ships bearing Elendil and his sons from the destruction of Numenor. They were accompanied by their three children, two sons and a daughter, all showing an intriguing mix of their parents’ features. The Lady Firiel looked teary eyed.

“Knight of the Grey Company and Cousin to the King, the Lord Hastogur son of Aravir and his wife, the Lady Firiel, and their children.”

Although overjoyed to see them, the queen could not but think about how _old_ those with orc blood in them looked.

 

Shauk – wife

Htol-snaga – fuck-slave

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Timeline and nifty family listing

3002 – Ashtuzual murdered

3003 - Thiriston and Angarad marry – with issue

3004 – Indis moves to Krikayrau,

3006 – Gwion dies of old age

3006 – Aravir marries Indis – with issue

3006 - Hadril weds Ityld  (Gwion's grandson)

3013 – feeling death approaching Inzilbeth summons children; they swear oath to give Eorlings nor Drink, nor Food, nor Shelter

3014 – Grima makes it big at Edoras

3018 – Aravir dies at the Sarn Ford

3019 – Thiriston and son Haston plus Gudrun die fighting orcs around Breeland

3019 – Pengyril dies in Gap of Rohan

3020 – Hastogur marries Firiel

3020 - Dageth weds Dagmagol

1 FA (3022 TA) – Indis and Angarad wed Gronguron

15 FA – big party at Annuminas thrown by Aragorn and Arwen

 

 

 

 

* - died in combat/murdered

Aravir (2931-3018*) + (I) 2984 Ashtuzual (2972-3002*) – with issue

2986 – Thiriston (M)

2986 – Gronguron (M) – not twin of Thiriston

2987 – Hastogur (M)

2988 – Pengyril (F)

2989 – Hadril (F)

 

Aravir + (II) Indis (2983 – 21 FA)

3009 - Hastel (F)

3012 - Hureth (F)

3014 - Huel (F)

 

 

Thiriston (2986-3019*) + 3003 Angarad (2983?- 16 FA)

3003 Haston (M) – 3019*

3003 Dageth (F) – wed Dagmagol (2987) in 3020, with issue #

3016 Megilagil (F) - unrecorded

 

Gronguron (2986-21 FA) + 2FA Angarad (2983?- 16 FA) AND Indis (2983 – 21 FA)

No issue

 

Hastogur (2987-17 FA) + 3020 Firiel (2985?-76 FA)

3020 - Agarvaendir (M)

1 FA – Gernil (F)

3 FA – Gornor (M)

 

Pengyril – (2988-3019*) – never married, no issue

 

Hadril (2989-26 FA) + 3006 Ityld son of Tadag son of Gwion (2989-25 FA)

With issue, unrecorded

 

Dageth (3003 – 30 FA) + 3020 Dagmagol son of Gurben (Ear) (2987-99 FA)

With issue, unrecorded #

 

# Dageth had rapechild with orc; the Uruk Duvainor (3020-43FA) was raised as foundling at Krikayrau Manor; married, wife unrecorded, with issue, unrecorded

 

Dagmagol son of Gurben (Ear) (2987-99 FA) + (II) 35 FA Firiel (2985?-76 FA)

One son, name unrecorded

 

Gudrun daughter of Robur (2916-3019*) – dwarrow, no issue

 

Tarkil (2931-29 FA) + 2968 Inzilbeth (2951-3014)

Inzlbeth was adopted by Aravir, producing interesting family relations

Tarkil&Inzilbeth’s children:

 

Almarian (2969-14 FA) + 2991 Olon Halfhand son of Helgon (2953-48FA)

With issue, unrecorded;

while Almarian still alive Olon held some of the highest positions in the Northern Kingdom, eventually Steward of Arnor

 

Elwing (2972-16 FA) + 2991 Ciwon son of Miron (Strawberry) (2960-53 FA)

With issue, unrecorded; happy life as yoeman’s wife

 

Miriel (2980-25 FA) + 3002 Langon son of Helgon # (2960-55 FA)

With issue, at least two sons, otherwise unrecorded; major marriage crisis in 8 FA.

Langon held high Office in both Gondor and Arnor

 

# younger brother to Olon, fourth out of five sons of Helgon, with Olon eldest

 

Indis (2983 – 21 FA) + (I) 3006 Aravir (2931-3018*)

Aravir and Indis (2983 – 21 FA)

3009 - Hastel (F)

3012 - Hureth (F)

3014 - Huel (F)

 

Later wed, jointly with Angarad - Gronguron. No issue.

All daughters from first marriage married, details unrecorded, with issue, details unrecorded

 

Valandil (2985-28 FA) and Earendur (2989-25 FA) – married, wives unrecorded, with issue, details unrecorded. Uneventful lives of Dunedain nobility.

 

 


End file.
